Daughter of The Dark Lord
by Topaz B. Rainheart
Summary: Jenna Brooks is just an ordinary delinquent like any other kid her age, until the day a cyclops attacks her home. From that moment on, shes drawn into a storm of monsters who shouldn't exist, the fact that gods exist, and storm controlling toddlers. But when her family and friends are threatened by a coming force, will Jenna be able accept who she is, and save the ones she loves?


Chapter One

Jenna Brooks

(daughter of Hades and Melissa Brooks)

**I rubbed** my eyes with a sigh, closed the book, and set it on my nightstand. Then I flopped back onto my bed, and groaned. "I am _so _going to fail that test tomorrow," I mumbled, and sighed. It wasn't _my_fault I always failed, I was dyslexic, for gods sake! Whenever I looked at a page, the letters would start out all in the wrong order, and if I stared at it too long, the words would decide to go swimming! It was torture!

Reading, not swimming. Actually, I hated swimming, too. I just wasn't good.

And water never seemed to like me, I mean, the first time I was at the beach,

(I was three), I had almost drowned. I scowled at that memory, and sat up on

the cot. That memory was one of the only ones I had of my mother. Until my

fourth birthday. Until-

"Jen?" I started, at the voice of my favorite of the toddlers, Gwen. Gwen was

adorable. She was a tiny girl, with chubby cheeks and dimples. Her hair was

shoulder length, and black. Her eyes were blue, but not exactly blue...

like the clouds, just before they burst, pouring water _everywhere_. Gwen was

adorable, yes, but like the clouds, kind of ominous. She was a notorious

trouble-maker_, _and most people were afraid to get near her, since the kid

practically made her own electricity. I did not share those fears.

"Something wrong, Gwenny?" I patted the space next to me on my cot, and

Gwen trotted over eagerly, sitting next to me and frowning.

"Matwon want you?" Gwen ended her sentences, mostly, in questions, which

confused some people, but I found it cute. Now, though, I just sighed.

"Alright, then." I glanced about for something... something... ah ha! "Here,

sweetie, can you do me a favor while I go talk to Matron?" She nodded

solemnly, her eyes never leaving me. She practically worshiped me, and that

made me guilty. I was no one to worship. I mean, I'm ADHD and dyslexic,

my moms dead, I don't know who my dad was, probably some bastard who

raped my mom and left her there- I looked emo or something with my black

hair and pale skin, and I kept getting kicked out of schools! If

this kept up, Matron would lose patience with me.

"Would y ou like to color?" She nodded happily. I gave her a coloring book and set of markers. Last I saw of her, she was coloring eagerly- everywhere on my bed. Oh well. It would add some color to the dingy thing.

I headed to the Matron's office, feeling apprehensive.

Once there, I hesitated for a moment, then knocked.

"If you're not Jennifer Brooks, go away!" A shrill voice called from inside. I

gulped, and walked into hell.

How shall I describe Matron Baron?

She was a short, skinny, middle-aged looking woman. She practically oozed

evil, though how you can ooze evil, I don't know. Her skin was really dark and

shiny, like she had stolen the skin of some African Barbie, and her face looked

stretched. I knew for a fact she used most of the money the government gave

her for plastic surgery, and to dye her stick straight, gray

hair, that she always kept in a strict braid. I hated her. The way she looked at me with those beady black eyes, like she could see into my very soul was creepy. Sometimes I thought she could.

"Sit," she ordered, and I reluctantly took a seat. "The principal called," she said

coolly. I didn't reply. This happened every year, around end of year exams. The

principal would call, say I couldn't come next year, sometimes I got sent back

early, blah blah. Sometimes I didn't even last the first month. This was the

fourth foster-home I had been to, in ten years (Gwen and I got here around the same time), not counting the four years with my mother, in which I also got kicked out of school and such, though how you

can be kicked out of daycare is beyond me. I was talented, I guess you could say.

"Well?" she finally snapped. "What do you have to say for yourself, young

lady?" I rolled my eyes, though she didn't see- I think, and mumbled something

about "trying harder".

"Ma'am," I added, like it had been an afterthought. I swear, one of her eyes

twitched. I heard her mumbling under her breath, and while it sort of hurt, I

was used to it. The usual, how she was fulfilling her obligation to the

government, but I was too much, but that meant she was failing, she did all she

could, blah... I tuned her out.

Finally, she took a deep breath, and said, very carefully, trying to sound like she

gave a damn about my life.

"Dear... you have to stop this behavior. I know I'm not your mother, but your

mother is dead. Period. You can't bully other kids because you're upset."

"I don't bully kids-" I started to protest, but bit back that retort. In most adults

eyes, I did. I don't know why weird stuff happens to me. It just does. I've been

accused of causing avalanches.

Anyway, I'm getting off topic.

Matron Baron must have seen the absent look on my face. She made a

disgusted face.

"Girl, can't you focus on anything?" My attention snapped back to her, and I

gave her a blank look.

"No, Matron Baron," I said quietly, not wanting to face any more questioning

then I had to. She sighed.

"Go back to your room. I'll see you after dinner, Miss Brooks." I inwardly

sighed, but outwardly, (is that a word?), said, "Yes, Matron." I looked down,

then muttered to myself, "Birdbrain." I think she heard, because her eyes

narrowed, but before she could reply, I had left.

"Jen?" a small voice interrupted my thoughts. I frowned, finished brushing my

hair, then turned.

No one was there.

A shiver ran down my back. I headed, cautiously, out the door. Which was quite unlike me.

"Jen?" Gwen's voice sounding pleading, more desperate, like she did when she

had just had a nightmare and they wouldn't let me come see her until she was

full-out sobbing. "They" being Matron Baron and Matilda. Matilda was her twenty-seven year old daughter, and little nicer then Matron Baron, but she

was still stubborn and naïve. I continued down the hall, still feeling like this

was a trap. I turned into the hall leading to the staircase, then took a hesitant

step down.

"Jen, pwease?" This voice sounding wheedling, which Gwen never was, unless

she was planning a prank. I frowned, suspicious. "Come and pway with me..."

OK. Gwen was officially creeping me out. Slowly, I descended the stairs,

gripping the hairbrush so tightly the bristles poked me. Even more slowly, I

turned the corner of the last landing... and gasped.

There was a huge man in the hall. The first thing I noticed was his looks. _God, _

he was ugly. His skin was so tanned it wasn't attractive, and torn up with lots

of scars, like he'd been on the losing side of a war. His hair was practically

none-existent, except for a few greasy black hairs that stuck straight up, as if

trying to call attention to themselves, instead of the rest of his body. His teeth

were rotting, and his nose was smashed in, like he had rammed into a wall as a

young child. I can't tell you what his eyes looked like, because I didn't know.

He held Gwen in one arm, his hand over her mouth, muffling her screams, and

as I watched in horror, he called out, in perfect imitation of Gwen. "Jen? Come

and pway with me..."

I took a step back, then forwards, unsure what to do. The guy flared his nostrils. Could he _smell _me? I didn't smell that bad, did I? He grinned, and I winced slightly. He looked like he had eaten nothing but raw meat for his whole life, and yes, never brushing. "Come here, demigod meal," he growled, in a rough, gravelly voice, "Come so I can eat you." Firstly, was he stupid? You don't tell people you're gonna eat them! That doesn't make them come! Secondly, what did he just call me? _Demigod_? Was that the name for members of some cult he thought I was in or something? And thirdly- _why_ is there a _cannibal man_ holding _my _Gwen?! Feeling slightly braver, I took a few steps, then hopped down off the stairs, glaring at him.

"I don't know who you are, but let go of Gwen now, you idiot!" I yelled at him. He blinked. Wait... that was weird. For a moment, it looked like he only had one eye. No, that couldn't be true. I was probably imagining it. I glared at him. "Let go of her!" He blinked at me, then took a few lumbering steps forwards.

"Demigods good food. Cyclops eat Demigod, make Cyclops happy." I began to suspect this man had a few screws loose, if he thought he was a... Cyclops. What were they? My teacher in Greek Mythology, (one of the electives at school, I always chose it, though why the interest I never knew), said Cyclops were big, lumbering guys. They always had one eye, and they were vicious. And what was a _demigod_?

Angry, I threw my hairbrush at him. "Go away!" I screamed. "Leave Gwen alone!"

My hair brush hit its mark perfectly. Howling in pain, the man clapped his hands to his eye- that couldn't be right... and dropped Gwen. I snatched her and fled back to the landing. Still screaming, the man... Cyclops... freak... whatever, staggered out. Huffing slightly, I carried Gwen upstairs, while she snuffled. I didn't pick up my hair brush. I didn't go downstairs.

Something was seriously wrong.


End file.
